God stood in the Heaven’s garden courtyard,

and lifted his voice

to the lightning storm sky,

white birds would fly,

carrying images of lost souls,

saving them from untold tortures,

small bruises formed where his fingers

had touched his cheek,

spirits would sneak a peek,

as he watches the birds

aiding souls sympathetic to the chains

that pains,

a jolt of compassion shook him,

the skies turned from black to white,

and when darkness once filled the night,

sunshine filled the sky with light,

the white birds had to turn away,

or close their eyes

to prevent their pupils from scorching,

as they took off into the holy skies.